Come Undone
He was trying desperately to keep his eyes closed, because he knew that if he opened them, there would be three pairs staring back at him, filled with nothing but fear.
He could hear one of them gasp(more than likely Michelangelo) as the knife was dragged across his jade-colored skin for the umpteenth time, this instance opening up the flesh near his upper thigh. Crimson liquid pooled around the wound before it ran down the rest of his leg, leaving a river of blood in its wake.
But he didn't make a sound, not even a hint of a whisper. He drew his jaw taut and kept it that way, doing his best to make sure no sound escaped. It was the last thing the other three needed.
To see him that way...
He couldn't quite recall how long they'd been there. Hell, he'd stopped counting after a few weeks. If no one had come for them by then...
There was only one reason why they were there in the first place.
His stupidity.
No matter what the others said, that was what he was going to believe, regardless of how many times they reassured him that it wasn't his fault, with the exception of an outburst or two from Raphael.
Some days, nothing would happen. It would be quiet, almost too quiet for their comfort. As if they even had any of that left.
Others...were not so pleasant.
And this just happened to be one of those days.
He tried to keep his mind on the seconds that passed, counting each and every single one as they flew passed him, along with the pain. It wasn't easy to block out at first, especially since that fact that while the torture was taking place, his remaining brothers were forced to watch the scene play out.
Over and over again.
And this seemed to happen with each occasion.
They'd already gotten to everyone else, even Raph. After the usual spurts of anger and outrage, he'd finally given up, like a light bulb gradually burning out.
Now it was his turn, as it had been for the past four days straight. For hours on end, he would feel the blade dip into his flesh, burning and searing its way across his skin, leaving ruby-red trails behind.
But they wouldn't give his wounds a chance to heal.
Day one, they were fresh. Day two, they reopened each and every single cut, more than likely with the same exact blade they had used the day before. Days three and four had quickly become repeats of his previous experiences.
Though today was seemingly being even more trying, his skin being split apart in new areas, creating even more scars for him to recollect upon.
He was attempting to keep his breathing as even and as calm as possible, though as they dug the knife in deeper, he could hear his breath seize in his throat.
And as he berated himself inwardly for losing control, he could hear one of his brothers whisper his name, utterly knowing by the shakiness of Don's voice whom it had been.
"It's okay. I'm al—" His reassurance was cut off as this time the piece of metal was forced across the skin that connected his forearm to his bicep, and the moment that blood started to pour out of the cut, he knew they'd hit a vein.
He could hear the knife-bearer being reprimanded.
"I told you that we're supposed to keep them alive, you idiot!" a man's voice reverberated through the small room, venom laced within his tone.
He could hear the knife falling to the floor, the clatter it made ringing throughout his ears.
Knowing there was a good possibility of passing out due to losing too much blood, he slowed his breathing even more, but dizziness soon wracked his head. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that the room would be spinning.
"Leo," Mikey whined in a tiny voice, a sniffle escaping from the youngest turtle's beak.
"It's okay, really," Leo whispered as firmly as he could, his eyes opening the slightest bit. "I'm fine...," he murmured before passing out, the blood loss finally getting the best of him.
He wouldn't come undone for them, no matter what.
Perhaps a bit cheesy at the end and pointless, but who cares? Right? Let me know what ya think...